Forbidden
by H. S. Hines
Summary: Miroku is in over his head with an addiction that can't be ignored. yaoi, bdsm, angst. Please don't review if you don't read. If you read, please review. Oneshot, complete.


_Disclaimer: Saw it in a manga or an anime? Then I don't own it. Pretty simple. YAOI warning. BDSM warning. Angst warning. Final warning…_

Genre: Psychological, Angst  
Rating: M  
Code: If you don't know me now you never will  
Feedback: Well, it's caused me to write all these fics… so it's obviously productive. I know that it makes me feel good, at the very least. So if you'd be so kind as to write your opinion and keep your flames to warm you on a cold night…

_Notes: I wrote this, having been inspired by the song "Drugstore" by Stabbing Westward. Check the lyrics and you'll see how I mean._

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****Forbidden  
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He didn't know why he kept going back. It was like a drunk to his sake. It was like chasing the dragon. One vice led to another: lying to stealing, lechery to whoredom. All the women he had slept with had left him with no idea how overwhelming it could be. How it could become his every waking thought: how to get away to get more. His mind was clouded, his lies would catch up with him, and the darkness would have him. He would fight returning, fight his mind, his body, but there he would be, standing in front of the forbidden again. Begging to be abused, begging to be taken like a bitch in heat.

His friends didn't know. How could they? His disguise was perfect: a womanizer in love with comfort. He had always done what was best for himself at the moment, no concern for others, so when did he fall in love with pain? When did this suffering become all-consuming and make him so desperate for another taste? He had known from the moment they saw each other, they had to be together. But it was forbidden; they were enemies: one a lying monk, one a beautiful youkai. Miroku knew his blood was an aphrodisiac, his need a disease to be milked until he ran screaming from it. He could only take so much, lost in the ecstasy of soft flesh, dangerous hands wrapped around his throat. In those moments, he didn't care if he lived or died. For to die, looking on true beauty, was more than he could ever have asked for.

There was a loneliness in those strange-colored eyes, a glimpse of hell. He had run to warm himself by it, not minding the burns. He buried his fingers in soft, warm water, the gentlest thing about this lover. He had come to crave the abuse from a creature more selfish than himself. And by the moonlight, it all seemed fine and right. But when the sun rose, every morning after, he had to run away again. He had to scrub the blood off his skin, the scent of his lover, lest InuYasha detect either one. He would think Miroku was consorting with the enemy and InuYasha waited for any sign of deceit in the monk. Miroku knew the hanyo considered him a threat, even still. He had only himself to blame, of course. He would never do anything to harm his friends, but how could they know that? Only Kagome and Sango seemed to fully trust him.

Sango… He smiled at the thought of her. He glanced over to her bottom, considering running his hand along it. She would slap him, of course, and he would enjoy it. Sometimes he wanted to just take her and stop the game, but then he would get a grip on himself. He had done many bad things, but he would never rape a woman. No matter how mad she drove him, he would always take no for an answer.

He would simply seek out comfort in another's arms. Finally, unable to control the urge anymore, he walked up along beside her, allowing his hand to roam as it would. The resulting sting on his cheek sped his heart and almost made him do it again. She blushed and looked away and he smiled, knowing that she was hiding a smile. Perhaps, soon, she would give into him. But if she did, would he be able to give up his affair with the youkai? A surge of panic went through him and he knew he would have to sneak away tonight. He brushed away the light sheen of sweat that thoughts of the coming night caused.

They came across Jakotsu, who challenged and fought InuYasha, flirting more than fighting, as usual. Also being customary was that he escaped, to a chorus of curses from InuYasha, who particularly hated him. Miroku's eyes widened when Jakotsu winked at him and he jumped when he felt the other man grab his ass as he ran by. Miroku tossed his own curse after the other lech, rubbing his behind. All the times he stroked Sango's bottom, he never pinched like that!

They made it through the day and as everyone bedded down, Miroku ran off into the night. He always knew where to go, he could follow the demonic aura as clear as day. He may have felt like he was crawling back, but he was running as fast as he could. He stopped and leaned against a tree, catching his breath and watched the object of his desire, his desecration, and his fall, came into view. Miroku stepped away from the tree and was noticed immediately. Perhaps he had been noticed long before, but the smile that curved sadistically across the mouth he craved welcomed him as though he had simply appeared.

Miroku dropped to his knees and bowed deeply, touching his forehead to the ground. His heat sped up as he heard the footfalls come close and stop in front of his face.

"You may kneel," came the voice from above him. Miroku obeyed, rising to his knees. He was shorter than his lover on his feet, but on his knees, he only rose to a particularly colorful obi tied in an impossibly intricate pattern. A hand touched his face, claws lightly flowing across his cheek. Miroku closed his eyes and just concentrated on the feeling against his skin. The hand snaked around to the back of his neck and pulled him to stand and have his lips crushed in a bruising kiss. He eagerly parted his mouth, shuddering at the feeling of sharp fangs against his tongue.

He opened his eyes and briefly met the golden pair in front of his before quickly casting his eyes down. Sesshomaru hadn't given him permission to meet his gaze and he hoped his transgression hadn't been noticed. Either it wasn't or it was ignored, because he was kissed again, much to his delight. He fought himself to not try to remove Sesshomaru's clothes without prior consent and satisfied himself with balling his hands into the fabric. Sesshomaru broke the kiss and Miroku kept his eyes closed to prevent giving into the temptation to look in the youkai's eyes.

Sesshomaru's mouth began trailing down towards Miroku's throat and he braced for what he knew was coming. His robe was moved to the side and the taiyoukai's fangs pierced the tender place at the junction of his shoulder. Miroku's body jerked, reacting with excitement as the bruised flesh that never seemed to heal anymore was sucked at roughly. He moved without thinking against Sesshomaru, pressing his aching need against the other man and was punished by a shake of the youkai's head, tearing his skin. Miroku bit back a cry, knowing that it would only solicit a deeper bite and contented himself with holding onto Sesshomaru's shoulders, stretching his neck to give the lord unobstructed access to his neck.

Sesshomaru finished feeding from him and ran his tongue over the wound, cleaning off the last of the blood that seeped out. Miroku was trembling, hoping that tonight would progress quickly and without any severe reprimands. Sesshomaru could be very exacting at times and forgive everything on a whim another night.

"What do you wish to do, monk?" Sesshomaru asked quietly. Miroku stared steadfastly at the white haori in front of him and considered the question. Obviously, he wanted to fuck, but to say something so crude would be to ruin his chances ofit happening soon.

"I wish to look in your eyes, my lord," Miroku said.

"You may," Sesshomaru answered and Miroku's eyes flew to their target. So many signals could be found there that could be missed in body language. Sesshomaru was amused, so said his eyes, and Miroku relaxed. He had found him in a good mood. Then this would be a night of almost pure pleasure. His pulse picked up at the thought and he smiled. Sesshomaru touched his face again and Miroku's eyes closed against his will, his breath catching. He was becoming desperate, but he waited patiently. "What now?"

"I wish to touch your face, my lord," Miroku answered. Sesshomaru nodded and Miroku reached up and touched the moon on his lord's forehead, tracing it, then ran his hand down the curve of his cheek, finally tracing the soft lips before removing his hand. "May I touch your hair, my lord?" Miroku asked. Sesshomaru nodded and Miroku buried his hands in the soft white mane. And so it went. Miroku was ready to beg by the time he was asking to take the heavy armor off and he was begging by the time he had untied the purple and gold sash.

Soon he was back on the ground and they did what he had come herefor.

After, they lay on the grass, sweating and breathing hard, each just trying to catch his breath and take in what had happened. There was always a moment of surprise for Miroku, like waking from a dream and finding out you had only partly dreamed it. This was when he would run away, vowing not to return again, not to give in again. If he ever thought it would really be the last time, he would never have left.

And this was what he lived for. Some day, he wouldn't need this abuse, wouldn't need to feel Sesshomaru moving inside his body—or so he told himself. Someday, he would ask Sango to marry him and settle down to live a normal life. Someday he would kill Naraku and free himself of the curse of his right hand.

Someday… but not today.

**_Fin. _**

_If something seemed missing, it was. There was a lemon in there, but I squelched it to make this an M-rated fic. I've been working on this all night and it's after 2:30 in the afternoon and I still haven't been to bed. So any mistakes are my fault entirely. And to answer a few questions: No, there won't be a sequel. No, there won't be a prequel. Yes, this is complete and no,you can't have Sesshomaru all to yourselves. We all have to share. Now pass the pocky, I'm going to bed._


End file.
